I love you
by Francey Pants7
Summary: When America tells Britain he loves him it is too much so he lies and says he is dating France except now he has to prove to the world that it is true. FACE, One sided USUK, FrUk, Seychelles X America, SeboMona, PruCan WARNING! Scenes of sex later on.
1. Lies

The World Meeting had just ended when America timidly walked up to Britain, there were still quite a few countries left in the room; France, Prussia and Spain were to the side planning their next attack on Britain after they had thrown flour bombs at him so he had got them back by turning them into a frog, a dog and a turtle and had had to stay that way for the week after. Britain glanced over to them now and then as he worked on some papers, trying to figure out what their next plan was, jumping when he saw America in front of him. "What the bloody hell do you want?" Maybe that had been a tad harsh... America looked immediately like he was going to burst out crying, he was shaking. The American was never scared, at least not when talking to others.

His voice tremble as he spoke, "A-Arthur there is something I need to tell you..." His face was pale, almost ghostly. Canada noticed from far away how pale he was, hanging back to watch everything. Britain merely rolled his eyes after a little while and got back to work. "I love you! A-And if it is alright with you I would like to go on a date..." Silence fell in the room, a distinctly upset France clenched his fist, trying hard not to yell out what was in his mind. Britain stared at America, taken back. He dropped his pen.

Holy shit... He couldn't break America's heart, could he? He didn't love him, he wasn't interested in relationships. He never had been. "A-America... I-I'm sorry but..." He scanned the room in desperation, noticing France's encouraging smile, as if he was willing him to say yes to America. No, all he needed to say was that he didn't like him in that way... That's all. "But I'm with France." What? Where did that come from? Did he just say that? It couldn't have been him...

His face began to blush, not knowing how to get out of this, poor America was startled, heart broken, "Oh... Okay... When did you two start going out?" America watched him, puzzled, trying to take it all in. Except France had immediately locked onto the fact that Britain had said him and was grinning, wrapping his arm around him. "Oui! We've been dating for a couple of months, you know how Angleterre is. He won't tell anyone until he has to. I'm sorry America..." He winked to Britain, trying to get him to go with it as Britain tried to pull his arm off his shoulder.

Stupid Frog... He didn't need his help, his thoughts were interrupted by Spain and Prussia rushing over to congratulate them, giving him a high five. "Nice one! Have you got him laid yet?" Prussia burst out with the question, adding to America's misery. Britain squeaked at the thought of having sex with that Frog, "No!" There was a sudden flash of encouragement in America's eyes and as much as he hated it he glanced over to France for help. "Arthur wanted to wait a bit." There was an almost sigh in France's voice, as if they were actually dating and he wasn't letting France have sex with him.

There was a wail of laughter from Spain and Prussia, falling into one another as they laughed hard. "Sounds like France is starting to settle down. Christ... You and no sex is like Switzerland and no gun." France gave them one of his glares and they soon shut up. Wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, he grabbed France's hand, giving him a 'we need to talk' look. "Sorry everyone, we're late for a very important date." Britain blushed a bright red as he saw the satisfaction in France's eyes. Why the hell did he have to use a quote from Alice in Wonderland right fucking now?

Once around the corner he pushed France into one of the spare meeting rooms, "Well someone is eager." France grinned, tempted to kiss Britain there and then. "Shut the hell up! Just shut the hell up! We need to talk about this." He hissed to France, his arms becoming erratic. France's hands coiled around his arms, smiling as he talks, "Why don't we go and talk about it over a cup of tea? I'm sure we can come to an arrangement best for both of us." Britain tried to grab his hair, his face alight in horror at France's delight. "I'm not having sex with you! We might have been together before but I'm not letting you get the best of me this time."

France sighed, shaking his head, "Non, non! You miss understood me! I didn't mean it like that!" His face ached with pain, the memories of the other times they had been together coming back to him as they regularly did, stabbing him repeatedly in the heart. "Angleterre, I just want what is best for you. I'm not this stupid pervert you always make me out to be." His voice was heavy with frustration, wanting Britain to calm down. At last Britain gave in, unable to stop looking at the stormy blue eyes in front of him. "Okay..." His voice is small, his submission limited.


	2. Petit Lapin

When was the first time I told him that I loved him? Of course, all those years ago when we were only small. Britain was always such an adorable child, always. Even as I think about it, it brings a smile to my face the first time I met him. If you ever asked him he will scoff and say he has no recollection and that he was born into a hell with me. Fortunately that is not true, the first time we met was the first time I fell in love and I have always had that first love. No matter how many loves on the side there has always been a love for him. I guess Antonio would best understand, after all he has loved Romano for so long. That was one of the ways we are such good friends, we mourn to be with the one we can't have.

The day I first met him I was meant to be meeting Scotland, we were going to try and throw out the Romans from both Britain and France. Instead I found a little child, cuddled up in the darkest point of the forest crying yet he still had a smile on his face. He was talking to his friends, Minty and his fairies. The Flying Mint Bunny nuzzled up to his ankle and smiled to me. It had always been a secret that me and him shared afterwards that I could see them. The fairies sang a tune to tiny Britain, a nursery rhyme except once they heard me trip in the bushes they hid away.

The first time I saw him face to face he was prodding a stick at my face. "Who are you?" His gentle smile from before was replaced with one of anger. "Bonjour! I am France, I'm sorry I saw you in the woods and though you might be lost." A relaxed smile faded onto Britain's face and he walked over to the tree to sit down once more. "I'm not lost, this is my home. I am Britain." He seemed proud of the fact and you could see the pride twinkling in his eyes, the pride he has always had for his country. "Ah! You are Scotland's little brother, oui? He speaks very affectionately of you."

I will never forget how startled he was at that, he refused to believe it, almost. I chuckled as I sat next to him, "He says you cannot cook for the life of you but you care about your people a lot. He looks up to you in a way... But don't tell him that or else he'll get angry with me and my Boss doesn't want that at the moment." As I had talked I did not realise that he had fallen asleep on me. I guess my voice was very soothing to him. The first thing I spotted was how innocent he was, you would never have guessed that this little country was being ruled by one of the powerful countries ever.

After a couple of minutes his nose twitched and he sneezed, not a full sneeze, a mere half of one. It was so adorable you couldn't help but want to rest him in your lap and cuddle him for the rest of the day. Instead my hand found his hair, it was knotty but still quite soft, my hands brushed through it gently. "France... Would you be my friend? I-I mean... There's lots of nasty countries out there and I would really like some to be my friend." He blushed a sweet shade of pink, similar to some of the flowers nearby to where we were. "If that is what you want then of course I will." That was one of the very few times Britain didn't argue back, he simply left it like that.

Seeing him, being so endearing, it made my heart beat quicker. I could feel it in my rib cage, pounding away. It was unnatural but also the most natural thing in the world. "France... My heart hurts... It feels like it is about to burst. I don't like it, I'm scared..." His hand grasped mine tight and he looked to me for an answer. I placed my hand on my heart then his. "Does it beat quicker when I do this?" I couldn't help it, before I knew what I was doing my lips were touching his. My first kiss.

I pulled out realizing what I had done, blushing profusely. "I-I'm sorry..." I was stopped when I saw the small nod from Britain. I couldn't help smiling and kissing him one more time. "When you feel like this when someone kisses you it is called love... I love you Britain." After that time we never talked about it again, we would share delicate kisses with one another and occasionally hold hands. All the time trying to hide it from the people around us, but it was worth, just for that one one moment of no regrets, touching his soft, delicate lips on mine.


	3. Jealousy and Love

America glanced around the table at the bar, slamming his hand on the tap, "Come on guys! Iggy is going to get hurt! I know it! We need to follow them to make sure France doesn't." Canada and Seychelles sit to the side of the table, slipping in late. "You're just sour because he didn't choose you." Prussia rolls his eyes, finding the whole a complete waste of time. "Well it is weird that France never told us, and he did let us go ahead with the prank on Britain..." Spain speaks up, wanting his voice to be heard. Lovino sits next to him, having been forced to the meeting.

Other countries have been forced to the meeting too; Prussia forced Germany and Italy to come so that at least he wouldn't be suffering alone but also Monaco and Seborga sit to the side listening in. Seborga raised his hand, unsure about how meetings normally go as he is a micronation so isn't allowed in. "Mr America, maybe you are thinking about this too much. After all Big Brother has dated Britain a lot through out their lives." He smiled as he spotted Monaco giving him an encouraging nod. "I mean they dated when you were little and they cared for you together, when Seychelles was little too, then when they were little they were always cute together and they dated as pirates." He nodded triumphantly, successfully having made his point.

Monaco came into the conversation now to give her view, "Francis has always loved Arthur, no matter the time and Arthur has always accepted it in his own way. I think it was just a matter of time before they got together again, but I would like to make sure that my brother isn't hurt again... He ended up pretty bad last time Arthur split up with him..." She shudders at the memory, not wanting to remember that France ever. He was so broken up by that idiot... A hand reached out to hers under the table and she glanced up to see Seborga smiling at her, returning the encouragement she had given him.

Germany rolls his eyes, seeing that it is getting nowhere fast. "Why don't you just follow them America if you want to so badly try break them up... That way you can see if they are faking it or whether they are going to hurt one another." Canada watches his brother carefully, knowing all too well that he is not very good at spying, "If you like Alfred, me and Victoria can help you out? It will be much easier if there are three of us." Seychelles immediately blushes a bright red, unaware that she was going to get into everything, let alone have to work with America.

Her heart flutters at the thought as she thinks about cuddling up to America as they spy on Britain and France. "T-That sounds good! Why don't we do that?" Her voice squeaks in delight, making everyone turn to glance at her so that she sinks slightly in her chair at all the people looking at her. "Then it is decided, if they are doing anything that seems bad then you can just go up and tell them." Germany sternly looks to the three of them, highly doubtful about how successful they will be, but at least it shuts up America. "Brother, Italy. We're going." Germany pulls out of his chair, highly disappointed that America did not offer to buy them a drink for their troubles but he had not really expected it from the simple American.

Prussia and Spain were engrossed in their own conversation when Germany called, "Hang on West!" Romano's eyes seemed to growl at him in fury, pushing him away from the table and forcing him to catch up to Germany. "Bye Toni!" He waved as he left, Spain waving back until he caught the scowl on Romano's face. "Lovi you know if the wind changes then you face will be stuck like that." He chuckles as Romano blushes a tomato red. "C-Come on you bastard, I want some tomatoes..." He grabbed Spain's arm and forced him out, not able to take it in there any longer.

America smirks to Seychelles and Canada, "We better see what they are up to then." There was a careful smile planted on America's face, one to hide the fact that he so badly wanted to split up France and Britain in order to have Britain crying in his shoulder. Of course he didn't want to hurt Britain but he hated that French enough to see past all of that. That is if they really were together... He slid on his bomber's jacket and they marched towards his car, a man on a mission.

That simply left Monaco and Seborga at the table alone, both of them had not noticing everyone going, to focussed on the other one. Seborga's heart raced, wanting to kiss her but he wasn't like his brothers, he wasn't romantic, he wasn't confident with girls. The last girl he had tried to kiss he had got punched by his best friend, who just happened to be made out of steel and broken his nose. That wasn't a good day and he wasn't a good Italian. Besides he was half French, half Italian so of course he would not be a good Italian.


	4. Betrayed

He lay there on the battlefield the Battle of Castillon had finished. His side ached from a wound he had got when stabbed by Britain, he hadn't meant to, he didn't mean to hurt him back. Wandering around the battlefield aimlessly he searched every body, trying to find his love. They were meant to be leaving soon, he was meant to be getting checked over. But he stubbornly refused to go until he found him. Only 100 of their army had been killed yet thousands and thousands of British littered the battlefield. "Arthur! Arthur!" His cries kept going, they kept ringing out, his throat was raw yet he kept yelling.

His armour weighed him down, his sweat stuck to him. He should have taken off his armour before, he hadn't thought. All he could think about was Britain being wounded somewhere. Suddenly in a ditch he noticed a body still moving, there was murmur coming from them about bloody frog and such. It was his Britain, his Arthur. "Britain!" He ran over as the person glanced back. The amount of blood on him was terrible, he had done this to him... He had caused all this pain. Tears began to fall from his eyes and he hugged him hard. "You idiot, I told you to get to the woodland."

Britain chuckled to him, coughing up blood from his chest onto France. He has a deep chest wound, the wound that France had embedded in him, "Stupid Frog... Don't think I'm going down that easy." He smiled to him, his emerald eyes shining back at him as he stared into his bloody, mucky face. "I'm sorry for stabbing you..." France's voice broke, trembling, he couldn't forgive himself. It had happened so fast, he should have stopped himself. "I'm sorry about Joan..." France bit his lip, gazing at him.

His heart breaks slightly, remembering her screams as she burnt. He had watched it all, watched her be taken up and watched her die."She wanted to kill you... And I couldn't let her... You did what was right." His lip brush upon Britain's, one of his tears falling onto Britain's cheek. "You loved her, didn't you? You loved her more than anything else." There was a pang of jealousy in his voice, a cry to France to beg for him. A cry that France heard buried away. "Not more than you." Britain's eyes closed gently before he took his last breath, at peace with the thought of France being with him.

Carrying the body, he made for the camp, making sure that no one realized who he was holding. He slipped into his tent, sliding Arthur gently onto his bed. Gently, he began to undo Arthur's armour, trying to make sure that he did not create anymore damage. A small girl rushed into his tent grinning, "Bonjour Monsieur Francis!" Her eyes darted over to the body, "N'est-il pas les Anglais? _Isn't he British?_" His eyes cast over her. "Oui,est-ce qu'il un cher ami, svp peut vous est-il m'obtenir une certaine eau? _Yes, he is a dear friend, can you get me some water?_" The girl cautiously leaves to get what he needs.

Francis' hand runs through Arthur's hair, it is once again matted yet it still tickles his fingers. He chuckles slightly, pleased to see his friend after so long and be alone. Every single time he has gone to see him recently he has been with his King, this time though he has more freedom. If the girl had not intruded then he might have cuddled up to Arthur and have dreamt about the better days when they were younger. Unfortunately the girl came back quite soon, abruptly halting him from thinking about anything like that. Instead he needed to get off his own armour, once the girl had placed down the bucket of water and left he began to struggle out of his chainmail.

It dug into his skin, refusing to come off. The tiny chains clanked against one another as he huffed, his face beginning to become red. He had never been very good at getting it off, it was too heavy enough though he learnt to deal with that when walking it was an entirely different story trying to get out of it. After enough huffing and puffing he was freed, slinging it up so that it wouldn't get wet. He sighed as he hung up Arthur's uniform, seeing the hole he had made. Maybe he could get it fixed for him...

There was a call outside for food but he refused to leave Arthur, instead grabbing a cloth and using the water to clean away his wounds. He would just have to hope that simply stitching him back up would work, he couldn't get a doctor to look at him. He sighed, Arthur was a Lord... Lord of somewhere, he never listened to it when he told him, that meant he was valuable if anyone found that out they would be trying to get him so they could gain a ransom from the King England himself. He just had to get him across the Channel safely.


	5. Common History

They sat in the café each sipping a hot beverage, France sneered at Britain, enjoying the glances he kept being given. He spots Canada's curl just peaking out from a table as chuckles. "I think we have an audience." His hand slid over to Britain's and he grasped it. Britain wants to pull away his hand but knows that they need to be convincing. "Look Frog, I don't want anything between us. You understand? The plan is that we argue in front of everyone and you break up with me." France rolls his eyes, his leg gliding across the table and purposely rubs against Britain's.

Britain attempts to remain calm, his heart leaping. He attempts to get it under wrath but it won't stop. "You know that will not work, besides I would not break up with you. It would be you breaking up with me just like every other time." He couldn't resist just slightly bumping France's leg back, trying to tell him to stop except it only ended up making their legs play under the table. France glanced at him playfully, leaning in as he talks. "So if we were together, who do you think would have made the first move?" He raised his eyebrows. "After all we'll need a convincing story."

Britain attempts to sip his tea but splutters it back, "Well it would probably be you... After all you can never normally keeps your hands off me..." France bit his lip, making Britain pay attention to the lip slightly more, he has the urges to lean in and bite it before remembering who this is they are talking about. "I don't think so, after all you are immune to my flirting. I think it would be you who took the first step." Britain looked taken aback, before France's grasped onto his hand tighter. "I think you would have taken me to a café similar to this one. Small and cosy always is your style. Then you would have attempted to tell me that you loved me however had said you hated me."

His voice locked Britain onto it, he can see it all happening. "I got up to leave and you got angry with yourself. You whispered the same words into my ear as that night, _Kiss me Frog and you will be a Prince, _with that I would lean my lips onto yours and you would kiss me." France didn't realise how much they had leant into one another, his lips leant onto Britain's and just as he predicted Britain kissed him. A moment of shock zapped through him before he realized he needed to kiss back. Patiently he tested the barriers to see if Britain will allow his tongue to explore however that was when he pulled away.

Britain blushed a bright scarlet and knocked down the rest of his tea. "I only kissed you to get them to try and stop spying on us." France's heart deflated, his eyes fell. Pulling his leg away from Britain's he got up, sliding on his jacket. "Well then if that's all you need me for I'm leaving, au revoir." He glared at Britain in annoyance for a second, marching out of the café. He tried his hardest to hide the tears that were so close to falling. Britain sat there for a couple more minutes, attempting to make it look like France had left just because he wanted to.

After all, he didn't want to look idiotic going after him. His heart pounded hard against his chest, telling the stubborn fool to get up. He saw America about to come over and immediately got out of there, knowing not only that he didn't want to talk to America but that he needed to talk to France. He passed a little alleyway on his way out and paused as he spotted France crying behind the bins. Stepping over him carefully, he crouched down beside him. Britain watches France's eyes as he speaks, "Do you really still care about me that much? Everything you said in there, how did you remember me telling you that?" He shakes his head in irritation.

"You shouldn't be able to still care for me, I've let you down so many times." His emerald eyes met with France's stormy blue. His hand glided over, holding his chin. "I do not love you, you need to get past that. I just need to avoid America, I don't want to date him, we've had too much past history. Just like you and me." His heart broke as he talked, knowing all too well he was lying yet also knowing that he would end end up breaking France's heart anyway sooner or later. He is unusually quiet, not a single smart mouth word comes out or a clever remark.

After a couple more seconds France picked himself up, leaving Britain by the dustbins. He wanted to show him how much it hurt, how much it hurt to constantly be told by someone that they do not love you. Even though you knew that they did. He was tired of messing around, he didn't want to have to see Britain's face ever again. Yet the pain of not seeing it might well have been just as bad. Britain didn't go after him again, he didn't think he needed to. However saying that, he had never been that good at relationships.


	6. Destroyer

Canada jumped to his feet as he saw France leaving, instantly knowing that something was wrong, "America stay here with Britain." It was not long after he left that Britain came out and he watched them talk. His fist clenched, so badly wanting to punch Britain for being so mean to France. He had never wanted to do something so badly before in his life. The two men that had raised him and one of them were crying and the other one was the cause of it all. Finally France left, unusually not seeing Canada as he walked by. That was not right. France always spotted Canada.

"I hope you're happy Arthur..." His voice shook as he glared at Britain, "He loved you and _I know _you love him back." He blinks away the tears furiously, his hand clenched. "I know you lied before about being with him but would really be that bad? I mean you are always going to argue, that's nature. Yet he still loves you and he was willing to be with you at a moments notice." He didn't understand Arthur anymore, he didn't want to. It made him so angry that he didn't even comfort Francis, that he just lied blatantly to his face.

Seychelles grasped his hand, tugging on it. "Mathieu..." She frowned at Britain directly, she wasn't scared of him anymore like she had been as a child. Francis had taught her a different side to Arthur except everything she had learnt about him was destroyed by him lying. That wasn't the Arthur she had learnt to care about and love as a parental figure. She pulled Matthew into a cuddle, trying to calm him down. France once said something to her, _Love never works how you want it to, they can be your World today and you're Destroyer tomorrow. _The problem was that his destroyer had come today.

Matthew eased out of the hug, searching around. "Where's Alfred?" There was a loud yelling from across the street, a cry. Seychelles instantaneously began to run to it, Canada keeping up with him. She did not care that Britain was only dawdling behind, not too worried. Her heart raced as she heard another cry, recognising it immediately as France's. "Francis! We're coming!" She ran across the street and hurdled herself at the person who was punching France, falling onto the floor with him. "America?" She blinked back in surprise, however she tried to make sure that he didn't try to get up.

"He made Britain upset! The bastard made him up! Only I do that!" America's fist had France's blood on it. "He deserved it! First he took my Arthur, then he parades him around and now he makes him upset!" He grasped onto Seychelles, shoving her hard into the side and kicking France in the vital regions whilst he still on the ground. The Canadian attempted to pull him away with the help of his polar bear except the fury inside him seemed to make him far more stronger. "America! Please stop! Britain made France upset! Alfred! Listen to me!" He glared at Alfred with all his might, Alfred wouldn't hurt him, he was his brother. "Alfred... Britain only hurt himself... He hurt you and he hurt France."

"France!" Britain finally gets there and rushes over to him, seeing the amount of blood around him. He scoops him up in his arms, his unconscious body hangs limply. His eyes fixate onto America in anger. "I told you Alfred that I didn't want to go out with you! You bloody wanker! Just because I said that I preferred Francis over you doesn't mean you can beat him up!" His eyes stung, trying to hold back evermore tears. His hand fumbled through Francis' hair, stroking it just like Francis used to. His hair was so long and glossy, soft to touch.

America pulled out of Canada's grasp, going over to Seychelles to apologise. He spotted that he elbow was scratched and offered to help her. His eyes kept away from Britain's, not wanting to antagonize him anymore. His heart silently wept as he glanced back to find Britain kissing France's forehead. It iced over at Britain's tenderness as he attempted to carry France home so he could check over him. He needed a diversion, someone to take his mind off Britain.

Seychelles attempted to get up and screamed in pain, Canada and America ended up having to help her back to her hotel room as she had twisted her ankle. She watched, mournfully, knowing all too well that Britain still wouldn't confess his love, just three simple words. She blushed a scarlet red as America helped her on one side to walk, the fury he had been in before... She didn't know why but she found it exciting, wishing that he loved her that much.


	7. My Prince

He woke up, rocking side to side. His head heavy with travel sickness. "Arthur! You're up!" Francis grinned to him, holding him tight in his arms as he continued to encourage the horse to keep going. Britain looked around dazed for a moment, taking in the surroundings around him. The sun was setting in the distance. He was somewhere... He wasn't sure where. It didn't feel like Britain, it didn't feel like France either though. "We are in Normandy at the moment." He grins slightly, his hand firmly wrapped around Britain. There was a sharp moan from Britain, he didn't want to be here... These were the very last people to successfully invade him and he hated them even more than France.

France chuckled, kissing his lightly on the forehead as they came to a stop. He slipped off the saddle and helped Britain to slide off. "I never liked the Normans either, the amount of resources we lost to them... They nearly pillaged us to starvation but, of course, if you starve the people then you get no resources." He pulled out a animal skin flask of water, passing it to Britain. "We're almost to the docks, then you can go home." Britain glanced up at him, suddenly noticing a large cut across his face. His hands leant in and touched it, causing France to wince.

France abruptly pulled away, beginning to pull out a range of food for them to eat. "You must be hungry, eat something." He took a swig from the flask and passed it back to France, noticing how he seemed to wince once more as he bent down to take it. "I'll only eat if you tell me how you got that cut and if your wound has healed." Francis refrained from sitting down, it was obviously too painful for him. "Eat some food and I'll tell you." Britain frowned uneasily. "Only if you eat some food."

France laughed slightly, "If I eat then I'm not going to have enough to get home myself." Britain glanced down at the food guiltily, "Why don't you come home with me? Once over the channel it is much closer, then we could spend some time together." France perked up at the thought of going to Britain's house, it was tempting... He carefully placed himself next to Britain, "The King is meant to be coming to London soon to see your King so I don't suppose-" Britain leapt on him in joy, unable to help feeling overwhelmed with emotions. "Really?! That would be great!" Once he realized what he had done he speedily picked himself up and sat back down, blushing profusely. "S-Sorry... I got carried away..."

France came over to sit next to him again, picking up some of the food and beginning to eat. "Some of the soldiers found that I was hiding you and one of them recognized you... We got into a fight because they say I owe them money, which I do not, and they were trying to use you as a payment. After that I set out one night with a horse and made my way here, we were meant to be heading to Paris and I was hoping that the King would allow you access back home due to a favour he owes me." Britain picked at the food as he ate, listening contently. "Your wounds have been looking good, they haven't got infected." There is a noticeable tone of guilt in France's voice as he talks.

Britain scowled for a moment, knowing that France was purposely avoiding talking about the wounds he gave him. "What about your wounds? Or else no coming home with me." He stared at Britain, torn between telling him and lying but in his heart he knew he couldn't lie to Britain. Gently he took his hand, lifting up his shirt slightly. Britain tried hard not to pull it away, feeling the puss from the wound against his finger. His eyes widened, had he been too busy caring for him to look after himself? The idiot!

His hand shot away, unable to express his horror, he valued his life over his own? France blushed an usual bright red, "I-I'm sorry... Maybe its better that I go back to my home after I get you on a boat... You probably don't want me there anymore..." A sadness clung to his eyes and Britain caught his hand, pulling himself up. His hand took hold of France's cheek, not wanting him to pull away. He leaned in close to France's ear whispering the magical words, "Kiss me Frog and you will be a Prince."

Francis didn't need to be told twice, his arms wrapped around Britain as he kissed him. His tongue sinking into the hidden depths of Arthur's mouth. Arthur moaned slightly, needing to breathe the air for a couple of seconds before sinking back into the wondrous kiss. "Je t'aime Angleterre." Little did they realise that the night had formed around them, a shooting star dancing past in the sparkling background.


	8. Victorious

It flared through the air, wedging itself into the man beside him. He blinked, down on his knees, his eyes meeting with Britain's. "Does anymore of you bastards want to question my order?" His voice was ice-cold, hiding a cosy warmth underneath. There was a deliberate cough and Britain's eyes immediately glared over to the man, pulling out his pistols and shooting the man dead. He simply rolled his eyes, smirking slightly at the terror on the other pirates' faces. "Now that is settled I want all these bodies off the ship now. Start sailing for New Land." His eyes glittered with the same pride as the day they first met, it was twisted but the exact same look.

Britain bent down, grasping onto France's neck affectionately, drawing close to him. He lips pleaded to be touched by Britain's, wanting to taste him after so long. He moaned, not trying to keep them at bay, he tried to pull his hand over to hold him but the rope wrapped around them kept them firm. "Arthur... Just one kiss and you can do whatever you like, please." The Briton sneered at the begging tone, enjoying it far too much. He ignored his plea, his hand sneaking down France's shirt. "You know I never got you to stay long enough before..." His hand freely stroked Francis' face. "And you do seem much nicer like this." He purred contently, Francis' face grew a dark red blush.

Violently, he pushed up Francis, forcing him down the stairs. Francis' confidence was already falling greatly, he didn't want this. A line of worry grew on his brow. "B-Britain..." Arthur kissed him tactfully, attempting to ease away all of Francis' worries but he forced himself out of the kiss, trying to struggle away. "What was that for?!" Britain was furious and he wanted payback. He yanked him into his cabin, his eyes glared into Francis' trembling ones. He forced him into the kiss once more, Francis gradually beginning to melt into it but the fear never went away.

He wanted to make it go, to dissipate it, purposely rubbing his crotch eagerly against Francis'. His eyes screwed up, attempting to resist. "A-Arthur... I-I haven't ever done it... I havn't ever had sex..." He sunk his hands into his face in sheer embarrassment. Arthur tilted his head slightly, taken aback. "What the bloody hell do you mean? Stop being stupid Frog, you were married to my brother." Francis peeked through his fingers guiltily, shaking his head. "Ever time we tried I-I couldn't... I didn't want to be with him, I want to be with you." Francis peaked close to tears, knowing he must have wrecked it for Arthur. "I'm sor-"

Arthur kissed him roughly, his mouth wanting Francis so badly. A grin spread across his face. "I didn't want to tell you that this is my first time." Francis blinked in astonishment, smirking at his magnificent Briton in front of him. "Mon cher, you weren't waiting for me were you?" His eyebrows raised slightly and he rubbed them affectionately against Arthur's, radiating a gentle moan from Arthur. "Who else... Would I have to wait for?" At that response Francis slid off Arthur's jacket, his mouth lovingly biting at his neck, sucking it tenderly.

Arthur held in a moan, not wanting to show Francis that he was already getting to him. His hand forced Francis' chest down, leaning over him. His bit his lip in anticipation, slowly, purposely unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the side. He took Francis' head as he leant up in anticipation, bringing his face close to his own. "Now listen to me Frog, you better say my name or else there is going to be trouble." His voice was a warning growl but Francis seemed to only find it sexy as replied back. "Yes Captain."

Arthur placed his knees on the bed, ripping off Francis' jacket. He didn't care how expensive it was, he just want to be inside Francis. His mouth filled with lust as they kissed, fingers magically undoing the buttons on Francis' shirt whilst Francis masterfully undid his. He prized the ribbon around Francis' neck free, running it through his mouth, savouring the taste of his Frog on it. Two of his fingers hooked around the trousers of Francis, taking in the beautiful sight of his trousers falling away and his shirt falling away. At last he cast away the shirt, not realizing that Francis had already slipped his away a while ago.

He bit his lip, the butterflies in his tummy crashed against it, the adrenaline rushed through him. Easing out of his trousers he made sure to his guns still fastened to him, as much as he loved the Frog in front of him he did not want anyone intruding them and if they did so he would make sure they paid the ultimate price. His fingers tapped on his gun, curling themselves around it slightly before leaning over Francis. This was the first time he had been powerful, more powerful than Francis. He was everything he had ever wanted to be yet he still wanted one more thing. Greedily, he sucked at one Francis' nipples, licking the hard part with great satisfaction. He wanted Francis and no one would stop him.


	9. Would you cry?

He woke up, moaning pleasurably, please don't tell him that it had just been a dream once again. He sighed as he found Britain asleep at the side of his bed. Of course it wasn't a dream. I was a memory. A wonderful memory. Although Britain would always refuse to see it that way. His head seared with pain as he tried to pull himself up, his hand gripped Britain's as a wave of nauseousness overwhelmed him. His hand searched to feel something rough covering his head, a bandage was secured tight. His ribs ached in pain, wishing to be noticed and he found that they too were wrapped heavily in bandage. He remembered talking to America but then what? Someone cried to help... Once? Twice... He wasn't sure.

He watched Britain for a moment, smiling at his innocence. His hand clung onto his, pretending that Britain was squeezing back, telling him that he loved him and that he would take care of him. But that would never happen, that Britain he had known had gone. He had known so many different Britain's yet they were all as stubborn as each other, none of them ever whispered those three words that he fought so hard to hear. He tried so hard to imagine him saying those three words but by now it seemed impossible, impossible that he could ever be loved back.

All those years of fighting then at last becoming friends, he just wanted to hold onto that. He never wanted to lose Britain as a friend, an ally. He never wanted him to become his enemy again. He had learnt from past mistakes. His hand stroked Britain's hair, accidentally causing him to wake up. Still irritable from being woken up Britain frowned to him, "What the hell do you want, you bloody git?" France was hurt by the sudden hostility, before something came to his mind. "Britain, is died tomorrow would you cry?" He glanced at him, hoping to soften Britain's heart slightly.

"Who would cry for you?" Britain sneered as he laughed, "If you were to die tomorrow I would throw a party and invite Germany." France's smile drooped, that had not been what he expected to hear. But of course this was Britain they were talking about. He observed Britain's chest, placing his hand on it so that he could feel his heart, it beat quickly. Was this really the same heart that Britain had, had before? "What the hell are you doing Frog?" He pushed away France's hand roughly, not in the same way he had done when they were pirates.

Suddenly France remembered Britain telling him that he didn't love him. His heart stopped for a couple of seconds, trying to process the information, before he fell back into bed, rolling away from Britain. "What's the matter with you? Why the hell are you being all moody? Hey Frog! I'm talking to you!" He grabbed France's shoulder and forced him to look at him, he could see the tears brimming from his eyes. "F-France...?" He laughs awkwardly, his face paling. "Hey... You know I was joking... Right?" He nudges France, chuckling, not sure sure what to say to him.

His eye caught the clock, "AH! I was mean to be going to a meeting!" He began to panic, lurching up and completely forgetting about how upset France is. "You can make something for yourself, right? Try and stay in bed, I'll be back at five so no messing up my house." He glared at France, who was not paying any attention to him, a worry line appeared on Britain's forehead for a second before he pushed his worry out. France was a big boy, he could care for himself. He gave him a doubtful glare and left the room, leaving France alone.

He listened to Britain's footsteps roar down the stairs and the front door slam shut. His head turned to look at of the window, waving goodbye to Britain miserably, sighing heavily. Who was he kidding, he wasn't even Britain's friend... He saw his jacket hanging to the side and ambitiously leaned out of bed. He knew that meeting was a World Meeting and he wasn't going to miss it. He just needed something to distract him from Britain and work was the perfect way. He dragged his feet out, his muscles groaned at the thought of having to run it but he would have to.

Standing up, he found that Britain had taken off his shirt to wash it. Never mind he would just use one of Britain's. He grabbed his jacket and strolled out of the room, immediately walking to Britain's room and flicking through his shirts to try see if he had any too big ones. He chuckled as he found one that Spain had brought Britain years ago as a present, he had been unaware that he was meant to buy a present for everyone and in his frustration had got all the presents muddled up with the wrong people. If he remembered correctly this was meant to have been for Germany.

He pulled it off the hanger and slid it on, doing up the buttons as he got to the bathroom. His hair was a mess, he found Britain's brush and carefully began to use it, making sure his locks looked their best, as he put it away he stopped, his hand stretched out to a bottle of pills. _He might not cry tomorrow but if he died today would Britain cry?_ His hand kept its grip on the bottle, his mind telling him not to but his heart wasn't in the fight. It didn't want to listen or care anymore. He was the country of love and all he knew to do was to listen to his heart.


	10. Yesterday

The two North Americans had trouble getting Seychelles up the fifth flight of stairs, they had began to tire now. "There's my room!" Seychelles pointed eagerly, ditching the two North Americans and hopping to her room, pulling her card out of her pocket and opening the door. America had tried to keep hold of her as she had hopped away, worried that she would hurt herself further. He wanted to make sure she was okay, after all it was his fault that she had got injured in the first place.

He blushed slightly, feeling his heroic voice failing him for once. "H-Hey Sey... Would you like me to stay over in your hotel room? I-I mean you'll need a hero to help you in the morning to get to the World Meeting." The Canadian chuckled, finding it quite sweet to watch all of this developing however he glanced to America knowing that he would need some caring for, for a while. He wandered over to Seychelles whispering to her, "Do you think you could look after him? He's going to need a shoulder to cry on for a bit and I know he's always had a soft spot for you." Seychelles blushed an adorable bright pink, she couldn't find her voice, she could only nod.

Grinning, she looked over to America. "Mister Hero, I think I have some ice cream in the fridge if you would like to eat some." She giggled as he immediately picked her up, carrying her into the room. "Where's the ice cream? You know heroes need ice cream to refuel!" His face turned so childish, it was heart warming to see. Canada giggled wanting to go and join them but he needed some time away from them. "I'll see you then." Seychelles waved a goodbye to him but America was solely focussed on finding the ice cream. Ice cream... He would love some right now.

Casually, he walked down the stairs, holding the banister. He didn't want to go back to his hotel room, he just wanted someone to hug him and listen. He found himself wandering down a corridor and tapping quietly on a door. His heart thumped loudly, scared of what they might say. The door squeaked open and Prussia glomped him, hugging him tight. He smiled brightly, unable to rub the smile off until he looked up at him. "Matty! Hey are you okay? You don't look so good..." His smile faded into a worried expression, taking his hand and pulling him into his hotel room.

The Canadian tightly hugged him once in the room, the tears beginning to roll off his cheeks. "Arthur lied... He isn't dating Francis... I-I just want them to be happy but Arthur is so stubborn... You should have seen how much Francis was crying and he never cries..." His head nuzzled into Prussia's chest, wanting to feel secure for once. "Then I yelled at Arthur, I never yell at anyone but he mad me s-so angry... Then next thing I know there is this yelling and Alfred has beaten up Francis and Arthur just took Francis away. I want to make sure Francis is alright but I really, really don't want to talk to Arthur..." Prussia eased back into a smile, carefully stroking Canada's head as he talks.

His hand tilted up Canada's face so that he stared at him. Gently, he pulled off his glasses, clearing away the tears from his cheeks. "Look Arthur and Francis will get their act together in their own time. You got angry, it happens to everyone." He shrugged slightly, finding the idea of the quiet, little Canadian being angry immensely endearing. "If you like I can ring up Britain, I have something you might like." A grin appeared on his face and his eyes lit up with life as he went over to the kitchen and brought back a spoon and a tub of maple ice cream. "I thought you might like it..." Kuma appeared to the side of Canada, having been busy all day, he begged to Canada for some and they sat down to eat it together as Prussia grabbed his phone.

He dialled it, eager to make Canada a bit more happier. He watched his sweet face as he ate the ice cream, it filling with utter joy. Listening to the phone ringing, he sat the other side of the sofa to Canada, his arm draping over his shoulder. There was a distant voice the other side which he couldn't make out. "Hello, Britain? Its the awesome Prussia. I wanted to make sure Francis was alright." There was a hiss down the phone as Britain yelled back. "Of course he's fine! Why the hell wouldn't he be?" He tutted down the phone, finding it entertaining how easily Britain was getting worked up. "Well I have a very upset Matthew here who seemed to think there was a problem..." His voice quietened down and he heard a distinct silence on the other side of the phone. "Was he really that upset?" Prussia's head slid onto Canada's shoulder, watching each other as he talked on the phone.

His hand bent towards Canada's with the phone still in it. Encouraging him to talk to Britain, his face went pale. After a couple of moments Canada took the phone, passing his ice cream to Prussia and bringing his knees into his chest. "A-Arthur is he okay? Please, he looked terrible before..." He could hear Britain's voice shaking, it seemed distracted, like he was watching over France as they talked. "H-He l-lost a l-lot of b-blood... B-But he's much better now, thank God..." Canada felt responsible, he wanted to go over to Britain's house and cuddle him. "He's alive though, right?" That was all that mattered, that was all he needed to hear. He needed to know.

All that came from the other side was a shaky sigh, almost crying. "N-No... H-He l-lost too m-much blood..." Canada could hear the tears so close and then him beginning to cry. "A-Arthur, I'll come over." There was an abrupt shout, "No! I did this to him and I want to fix it! If you want to help then just turn up to the World Meeting tomorrow." Britain put the phone down, he kept it there for a couple more moments before beginning to shake and tremble. Prussia pulled him in, his head rest on the top of Canada's. He gripped him tight, rocking him gently as if he were on a pirate ship.

Prussia brought his face close to Canada's, he wanted to reassure him. "Everything will be okay, Francis is a country. He can't die for too long." However, just the mere thought of Francis lying there dead made his heart break too. His heart twinged as Canada cried into him, their legs tangling up as Prussia pulled his legs up to let Canada lie on him. Kuma had attempted to bite Prussia's foot in annoyance at being kicked except noticed with excitement that they had left the ice cream tub alone and gleefully began to it at it, being joined by Gilbird. Half an hour later, Germany and Italy walked in to discover Prussia asleep and cuddling something. Gilbird has plopped himself on Prussia's head and Kuma had nuzzled into the invisible Canada.


	11. Pure Loving

His hand snaked down Francis' body, caressing it tenderly until it got to the area he wanted. He grasped at the arousal tenderly, surprised at how big it is. A smirk grew on his face, but of course, it was Francis' after all... He thought for a moment, not knowing what to do before his finger daintily slipped down his cock, realising a range of moans from Francis. He grinned in pleasure, slowly getting an idea for how to do this, even if he had only a little idea idea about how to get into Francis. His hand grasped onto Francis' cock firmly, slipping his hand down roughly, being tender as he raised his hand back up.

Francis' body arched up in delight, he used his other hand to press firmly on his chest and keep him down. "A-Arthur... I-I need you..." Francis blushed, unused to this feeling. He wanted Britain's cock in him, his leg twitched irritably, needing it. He let out another moan, fighting against Arthur now, wanting to kiss him. His emerald eyes playfully danced over his body, taking it all in before licking at Francis' stomach as he kept up with the hand movement. Arthur could feel Francis fighting against it in irritation, wanting so badly to start. His fingers clenched slightly, tightening his grip on the arousal, keeping up the flowing movement.

Francis' toes began to curl, his hand taking hold of Arthur's tongue to try get him to stop. Annoyed at this Britain made the torture worse by leaning in and rubbing their hard arousals against one another. His hips artistically rubbed up and down, his hand leaving France and trailing up Francis' arm to take the hand that held his tongue. He pinned both arms down, blushing slightly as he tried to search desperately for a way to enter Francis. Underneath he was hot, baking in his own oven. Francis rocked forward slightly, trying to get out of Arthur's grip, exposing a point of entrance.

His eyes gleamed in delight as his hand instinctively came over, slipping two fingers into the hole. There was a cry of pain from Francis, his back arching ever more. "Sorry Francis..." He blushed under the heat of both of them, his fingers sliding into Francis deeper, unable to resist. Once he got them as far as he could he massaged the inside, Francis heat ever rising. He glanced up as he heard Francis moaning once more, it was magical to heard it. "There just there!" Francis yelled, almost screaming it, the sweat beginning to pour off his head by now.

Arthur's fingers caressed over the spot one more time making Francis grasp him hips. This was it, it had come down to this. Carefully noting the exact location, his fingers spread out as he guided his cock into the hole. He was terrified, nervous and excited all at the same time. His hands grasped the sides of Francis' hips with urgency, sliding himself in as far as possible. He could feel France tensing up around him, his muscles contracting around his cock. He noted how easily he has slipped in and how wet Francis was, he sneered. Francis must have been planning this all from the start, far before he had lost the battle between the two of them. With that thought he thrust deep into Francis, right on the spot he had loved.

Francis battled to keep laid down as the sensational pleasures running through him. He felt Britain's fingers at last come from free, then saw them dangling playfully in front of him. "Would you get off your slime please Frog?" Only too willing did he lap up the substance, coating the fingers in slime. Another sudden thrust surprised him and he was filled with a wonderful sensation once more. "Arthur, faster. Go fast." He knew he would regret it but he could not miss this opportunity. Just as ordered Arthur triumphantly thrusts faster and faster, he wasn't able to keep hitting the place he wanted to but the moans from Francis were enough to satisfy him.

They began to rock with one another, in harmony. Arthur and Francis moaned in a melody to their song, Arthur constantly drumming into him. Suddenly he was hit with an overwhelming sensation, a delightful one. He thrust harder, wanting to keep it until his cock suddenly became super sensitive. His hand launched out and grabbed Francis' as he hit once more, feeling a gushing of liquid coming out of him. He felt like he had just peed, the warm liquid radiating ever more heat inside Francis. It was only when he looked down that he noticed that Francis had come too, all over himself. He chuckled at the messy Frenchman in front of him, a bliss look overcame Francis' face.

The Briton, slid out of his lover delicately, the semen inside dripped out of Francis, leaking onto the floor and the bed. He fell forwards, lapping up the mess on Francis' chest, purposely tickling him. France giggled, helpless to his invader. He puts his hands out in submission before surprising Britain with a loving kiss. He kissed his lip plentifully, working his way around the wonders of Arthur's mouth. His legs entangled in Arthur's and he flipped him over, bearing down at him as Britain plays with his hair. "Arthur could I have a go this time? I want to make you feel good." Arthur's finger looped around Francis' hair, noticing his beauty as he looked up at him in wonder. He was only too pleased to have a second round and they continued to make love long into the night.


	12. Disfunction

Canada had woken up the next morning, hearing yelling from Germany, "Brother! We need to get going to the World Meeting! Wake up!" He blinked, frightened by the aggressive German infront of him, burying his head deep into the sweeter, more kind hearted German's chest. He watched Prussia for a couple of seconds, his lip twitched slightly as he began to wake up. His finger rested on the lip, kissing it gently, unable to irresist. He blushed a dark scarlet as he swiftly pulled away, hoping that Prussia wouldn't have felt it that much. Germany threw a pillow at Prussia, instead hitting Canada who yelped and fell off the sofa.

With that Prussia grabbed him, stopping him from falling anymore. "West! Be more careful! You just hit Matthew!" He glared at his brother angrily, getting up to help Canada. Germany squinted, trying to see this other human being, "Where is he Prussia? And who is that?" Canada blushed as he saw Prussia crouching down and lending a hand to help him up. "He's right here and he's my friend." Germany rolled his eyes, "Oh right! Canada!" He blushed impromptly, scratching his back with an apologetic look on his face. "I... am sorry Canada..." After that he shut up and gathered his stuff, casting a glare at Prussia as he busied himself.

Canada picked up Kuma from the floor, who was still asleep, full from eating a large amount of maple ice cream. Cradling him in his arms he smiled softly, the polar bear was quite sweet when he wasn't forgetting who he was. "Come on Canada, we better start going." Prussia sneaked him arm around Canada's unable to stop a grin appearing on his face. Gilbird fluttered onto Canada's shoulder, snuggling up into his neck. Prussia stared at him in amazement as they walked down the stairs, "Looks like the awesome Gilbird likes you too." Canada blushed, finding it hard to talk, his throat grew a lump in it and as much as he wanted to he could not thank Gilbird.

Instead as they walked he stroked his feathers, the softness of them. He giggled as they tickled him, his face closing in on Prussia's. "Hey you're here!" Canada sighed, realizing they had got to the Meeting Room of the hotel they were currently using. He glanced over to see America already there, surprisingly Germany was there too, he must have passed them on the way down but Canada had been too focussed on Prussia and Gilbird. Whilst the Meeting began Prussia kindly escorted him to his seat, helping him into it before going to sit by his brother. There was a pink blush present on the German as he sat down and leaned over to watch the Canadian.

Canada waved a small farewell to Gilbird as he fly back to his owner, nestling on his shoulder. "Britain isn't here yet maybe we should wait!" America yelled out to Germany, his eyes frantically worried about him. "France isn't here either." Seychelles added from the other side, blushing as America gave her an approving nod. Canada's tummy fluttered at the thought of Britain, hoping that France was now alright and that he would be able to talk to him at the end. Germany rolled his eyes at the pettiness, sighing. "We'll start without them for the time being, they won't be missing too much." Germany had just began talking to the World about what could be done to help Spain's economy when Britain burst in the doors, haggered-looking.

"Sorry I'm late!" There were a few muffles and whispers about whether Britain and France had split up, jabbing at Canada's stomach, for he knew that it was all a sham. Britain looked over the World and blushed a bright red. "I'm afraid France won't be making it today because-" The doors opened once more revealing a smiling France, he kissed Britain on the cheek. "I'm sorry, me and Angleterre were enjoying the sights of Big Ben." He chuckled slightly as Britain tried to protest and France slipped into his seat, looking rather perky for someone who was meant to had died in the past 24 hours. Canada frowned, unsure, there was a certain way about the smile that told him he was planning something not very good.

Britain protested to France, trying to get him to go back home. That was when Canada noticed the large gash on France's head, he gasped loudly, in anger that his brother had done that to France. He noticed a look between Spain and Prussia, Prussia's fist was clenched on the table. Canada watched helplessly, wanting to tell him not to hurt anyone but he sat there, he eyes glancing over to America, to beg him to just get on with the meeting. France and Britain were still arguing when Germany reannounced what the topic they would be covering today. No one was focussed on that though, Francis' face was beginning to pale, already he looked ready to fall asleep.

America abruptly interrupted, "I think we should leave the Meeting for today, there has been enough happen." Germany glared at him in distaste, finding him rude and obnoxious. "We need to get the plans for this set up by tomorrow, the leaders need us to do this meeting in order to help the economy of Europe." America quietened down, his face falling slightly at being told this. There was a foreign feeling, knowing that this was just Europe helping one another meaning that for once he was not needed. A feeling of being alone settled and he gulped it back as he sat down. Reaching out for Canada's hand under the table, he grasped it. Realizing how his brother had always felt.


	13. Family

He cuddled up in bed, a few rays of sunshine awaking him from his slumbers. A timid knock came at the door and before long two little terrors came running in, bouncing on the bed and waking him up fully. He put a finger to his lips and raised a hand, pointing to Arthur who was still asleep. "Sssshhh! Don't wake up Angleterre, or else he will be cranky." He glanced at Arthur lovingly, watching him roll in bed. "Sorry Papa." Canada tugged on his polar bear, hugging him tight. "Can we have pancakes? Please~!" America bounced on the bed again, causing Britain to roll once more. France glanced at him, aware that with anymore rolling he would be waking up with a bad temper.

Francis picked up the flailing American, giggling at how much he tries to escape. "At least Matthew is a good boy." He glances around, taking Matthew in his other arm as he stands up. America pouts, folding him arms as France takes them out of the room. "It's not fair... Matthew is always the favourite..." He chuckles lightly as Alfred says that, putting both the children down on the floor and looking at them. "Now you both know that me and Angleterre love you equally, we don't have favourites, you are both as special as each other. You understand?" He smiled affectionately at them both, beginning to walk down the grand staircase.

Alfred watches Francis for a moment before running after him, jumping up to grab his hand. They wait for Matthew who runs and trips over Kuma, being caught by Francis just in time. He bends over, kissing Matthew on the forehead and straightening his bow at the top of his nightgown before taking his hand and leading them to the kitchen. Alfred watches Matthew enviously, wishing that he could be loved by Francis just as much. He stands there for a second, watching their smiling faces, only being pulled back to his senses by his stomach groaning for food.

Once they get to the kitchen Matthew sits in the corner, playing with Kuma as Alfred scrambles to his toy box, pulling out the toy solider Britain made him. He strokes the face considerately, taking in the many details that were painted onto it. He pulls out each soldier individually, each time taking care to look over the details. He sighed as he hugged the very last one, this was the first present Arthur had ever given him and he had promised to take good care of it. He glared at Kuma as he saw him eyeing up the soldiers, their teeth bared at one another in distaste. That was the main reason he disliked Matthew, because his polar bear was so mean and he constantly forgot his owner.

When he was older he would make sure that Matthew was never forgotten, he didn't want the polar bear to be right. He didn't like to think that maybe Francis especially gave more attention to Matthew because he was less powerful and would be easily forgotten next to his stronger brother. He didn't want to be the reason people forgot his little brother. Guiltily, he glanced over to Matthew, giggling as he saw him helping Francis make their pancakes. Gathering up his soldiers once more, he placed them carefully into his toy box and ran over to help too.

Francis saw Alfred come in, but didn't see Arthur come in. He sneaked behind him and nipped the tip of his ear, smothering his neck with kisses as he arms coiled around Francis' waist. "How's my lovely French village?" He chuckled teasingly, catching Alfred at the side of his sight. "Alfred, I told you not to eat cookies before breakfast." He wandered over to him, the crumbs falling messily from Alfred's mouth as he tries to eat it before Arthur can take it. "Take another if you like Alfred, I'm going to be make more later." Francis' eyes sparkled, giggling slightly at the thankful look from Alfred but the disapprove glance from Arthur.

Arthur stood there with his hands on his hips, "If he wants to eat a snack at least make sure he eats my scones, they've been around for weeks now and need eating up..." He grumbled, folding his arms in annoyance as Francis barely listens to him, instead focussed on Matthew. "Papa! Look I think I can flip it this time!" Francis smiled dotingly to him, wrapping his arms around him to pick him up so he can try to. "Now be careful mon cher." Matthew grinned in delight as with the help of Francis they flip the pancake. His eyes gleamed with delight and Francis cuddled him. "Aww what a clever Mathieu!" Arthur rolled his eyes, wanting some attention from Francis himself however he knew how much he cared for his little colony so decided not to break this up.

Alfred scrambled onto his chair next to Arthur's, holding the jar with Francis' biscuits in. Arthur couldn't help but laugh at the sweet sight of him sharing his food and kissed him on cheek, taking a biscuit for himself. "Alfred what are we going to do with you...?" He raised his eyebrow as he chuckled, whilst Alfred tried to think of something to say that would make him sound more grown up. "You could tell me why it is so noisy in you and Francis' bedroom at night." He giggled, thinking that he had asked the most grown up question ever and he was on the right lines too. Arthur's face blushed a light pink as he tried to think of how to answer that.


	14. The Banging

They sat down eating at their pancakes, Arthur still badly blushing. Alfred glanced at him innocently whilst he dug into his pancake. "Arthur, you didn't answer me before... Why do you two make so much noise at night when we are not allowed to?" Francis chocked back his coffee, raising an eye to Alfred. His smile hung crookedly, lapping up the wonder on Alfred's face for just a few more moments before Arthur glared at him. "Well you see, Arthur likes to play fight when we are in bed, just like you and Mathieu do. Sometimes we get a bit too excited and we accidentally make too much noise. I'm sorry Alfred." Arthur straightened up immediately, thinking that Francis was going to tell him the real reason. He blinks at him, unsure how he could think up something so quickly.

Alfred bounced up excitedly in his chair. "Francis next time you play fight can I join in too?" His puppy-dog eyes begged Francis, who chuckled, finding his endearing. "I'm sorry but we are much bigger than you, I don't think Arthur would like it if we accidentally flattened you into a pancake." He shook his head, shaking it sorrowfully as if trying to purposely make out Arthur as the bad guy in it all. Arthur frowned to him, not liking it whenever Francis said no to Alfred. After all he was going to make him a very wealthy country, he turned his head purposely, smiling to Alfred. "Don't listen to him, next time we play I promise we'll let you and Matthew join too."

There was a snigger under Francis' breath and he glanced over to Matthew as he felt someone tug on his shirt. Matthew held out his arms, clearly wanting to hugged by Francis. He was only too pleased to let him on his lap, picking him up and cuddling. "Well we all know who the black sheep of Europe is..." He winked to Arthur, who once again blushed, knowing full well what he had agreed to however just wanting to see the grin on Alfred's face. "Mathieu, what's the matter? You haven't eaten much... Has Alfred been trying to take your pancakes again?" Alfred was busy grinning away, flexing his puny muscles to try show them off to Arthur.

Once he heard Francis he froze, remembering too well how badly Francis had told him off last time. He ran to Arthur, climbing onto his knee for protection, all too aware that Arthur would protect him. Arthur sighed to Francis, "Maybe you should teach your colony to eat his food faster Frog." He twitched, not liking being called Frog, they were on good terms now, yet he would still be called Frog from time to time. He sighed, feeling Matthew's tummy rumble in his arms. "You should teach Alfred to enjoy his food more. Mathieu is just being a good boy." He began to put some maple syrup on his pancakes, having been too busy before to start eating them. "Open wide Mathieu." He obediently opened his mouth, eating the piece of pancake.

He giggled slightly at the sweet face Matthew pulled as he ate the piece of pancake. At least someone enjoyed his cooking fully. He glanced up to see a jealous little pout from Arthur, it was adorable to see him jealous and so he kept on feeding Matthew. Alfred attempted to get Arthur's attention but he was still far too concentrated on Francis. He kissed Matthew's forehead affectionately, his nose smelling his hair gently. No matter what Matthew always smell of maple syrup, it was wonderful and he adored that about him. He had even found a maple syrup shampoo to wash his hair with which made it shine.

After he had fed him all of his pancake Matthew looked to him apologetically, "Sorry Francis... I ate all your pancake..." He tickled him, trying his frown upside down. "As long as my little Mathieu is okay then I will be too. Why don't you go play with Alfred outside?" Matthew smiled back at him, kissing him on the cheek before grabbing Alfred's hand, wanting to show him something he had found yesterday however Alfred was already pulling him instead. Francis chuckled, watching Arthur dreamily. "My petit lapin wasn't jealous before, was he?" Before Arthur could talk he leant in, kissing him affectionately.

Arthur pushed out of the kiss in frustration, "I just want you to eat something..." He let his blush calm down before taking a bit of his pancake which was left and putting it on his hand, forcing Francis to eat from it. "I have a very kind master." His tongue took the tiny slice, his mouth sliding over to nimble at his little finger. "Why didn't you just tell Alfred before?" Francis cocked his head back is surprise, his head tilted as he laughed. "I thought you wouldn't like the children to know about that sort of thing." Arthur burst into laughter, finding his sweet Frog adorable. "This coming from the man who told his little Matthew about sex when he was only ten?" Francis shrugged innocently, unable to deny it.

* * *

**Hey! After such a great reaction to this I thought it would be rude not to thank everyone for reading this so far.**

**Muhawawa! Let's see if Arthur will really cry if Francis dies today... I hope you are all enjoying the side pairings, Prussia and Canada are so cute. I apologize for earlier on, I just HAD to put the wonderful Seborga in here. He's so cute and fluffy! **

**Thank you for the reviews! Please keep them coming!**


	15. No Tears

He had just got of the taxi when he saw Arthur run into the building, following suite he slowed down to catch his breath. There was a voice coming from inside and then he heard his name, immediately springing into the room. He remembered how Arthur wanted to keep up appearances and kissed him, he didn't take notice of where. He didn't want to think about kissing Arthur too much right now. Keep up appearances, of course, "I'm sorry, me and Angleterre were enjoying the sights of Big Ben." He chuckled slightly as Britain tried to protest, simply slipping into his seat, feeling rather perky at the thought of making Britain embarrassed infront of everyone. At last Britain sat down next to him, his frown ever constant until he turned away from him to listen to Germany.

Someone grasped his shirt, turning around he found it was Britain, much to his annoyance. "What are you doing here? You're meant to be in bed getting better." His voice hissed to him but France rolled his eyes, if only he knew. A silent grin stayed on his face, he pushed some strands of hair out of his face, thankful that he was not wearing that ridiculous bandage around his forehead anymore. Britain swiped his hand across his head, grabbing his ear and pulling him close to him so he could hear. "That bandage was there to stop the blood, you idiot! Why the hell do you think I put it on?" Already, he was beginning to feel tired now, exhausted from Britain's constant complaining.

Suddenly a thought came to mind which sounded tempting, "You still aren't going to cry if I die tomorrow... So why should you care about little things like that?" Britain seized up, he had been caught out too quickly. "Francis, you're not going to die tomorrow, I wouldn't let that happen." His worried eyes at last caught France's and a pang of guilt hit him. A lump grew in his throat, he needed to tell Britain what he had done but he wanted to see him, he wanted to see him cry. He didn't want to see him cry for any other reason except because of him, he wanted to see him care enough to cry. "Fine then, I'll try another day."

Germany glared over at them, forcing them to hush up, most of the World had been listening to his conversation, all except a couple of individuals who had been trying in a ditch attempt to finish the World Meeting for today. France smiled over to his little Matthew wearily, his head slipping into his hand as the World argued. America pouted at the front however Britain seemed to be constantly throwing in ideas, feeling that he needed to make up for the rest of the family not putting anything in. Family... That wasn't the right word for them anymore...They were just four countries now.

At the sad thought France slipped into unconsciousness, his head falling into his arms, his hair sprayed out across the table. Britain hesitated for a moment, a smile briefly flickered onto his face safe in the knowledge that nothing too bad could happen to France when he was here. It gave him a slight peace of mind, listening attentively throughout the meeting, making sure to take notes about stuff to do with France to tell him later. It was only after a while that he noticed the blue tinge of skin on one of his fingertips that the worry crept back.

The World Meeting at last finished and once most of the countries left that was when Britain decided to shake France. "Hey wake up Francey, I told you that you shouldn't have come." His voice was more childish than he could ever remember it being. His eyes desperately watched the French man in front of him. "Francis?" His hand searched his wrist and his face paled as he could feel no pulse. "Francis stop messing about... I-I'm scared..." He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder, two concerned North Americans and Seychelles looked back at him.

Seychelles rushed over to France, fumbling as she couldn't find a pulse. "A-Arthur... H-He's dead..." She felt sick to the bone as she could only helpless look at the body in front of her. "How long has he been like this for?" Canada turned his head to Britain questioningly. "I-I thought he was sleeping... I-I don't know... a couple of hours..." Britain paled, cursing himself under his breath. Canada glanced up at Britain angrily for him having not noticed. "Look he's a country, he'll come around sooner or later." America tore between his brother and the man he loved, trying to stop any argument. "Although, maybe this time he should go to a hospital... It might do him better in the long run." Britain bit his lip, he knew France hated hospitals but he knew all too well at the same time that they needed to find out why he had died.

Gazing over at the bluey body, he felt responsible for France, a feeling he hadn't felt in a while. His hand stroked his hair gently, comfortingly as he sighed. "Fine... We'll go to a hospital... But if they kick us out because he's dead don't blame me..." Instantly Seychelles pulled out her phone, beginning to dial 999. She felt unsettled, restless, Francis wouldn't just die like this... There must be a reason... She watched him carefully, as if trying to find it out, to uncover it. The other side of the phone began to talk and before she knew it she was giving them details of where they were and that they think their friend was dead.

* * *

**Urgh... I killed Francis... My feelings... xD Why is life so cruel? xD**

**I'm not going to let you find out just yet how he got on, let's see how tense we can make it.**


	16. Coward

He cuddled up tight to Britain, his body pressed against his as the other slept. He listened to the destruction outside, seeing the occasional flash of light illuminate the sky. A crackle of gun fire kept him away, guarding Arthur obediently as he slept. There was a nearby explosion and he grasped onto Arthur just that little bit more tighter. Peeking his head out slightly, he scanned the area around the trench. Something didn't feel right... He glanced over to Arthur and tenderly kissed his forehead, his dirty face filled with a youthful innocence. Once again there was a nearby explosion, this time he detached himself from Arthur, pulling off his jacket to keep him warm.

Slipping out of their sleeping area he stood on a rat, he had to stop himself from screaming in disgust. He wasn't built for areas like this... He sighed, listening to everything, trying to get a feel for it all. Instantly he ran back over to Arthur, tugging at him to wake up. "Arthur... Something's not right... We need to get out of here..." He tugged with urgency, the last time he had gone a bad feeling like this he had listened to it and stopped Arthur getting shot by a German. The Briton didn't bother to try get up, grumbling in misery. "A-Arthur... It's one of my bad feelings..." Immediately Arthur woke up, his face paling. He had learnt to trust these bad feelings, after all they were fighting in France so surely France could feel something and sure enough every time he had always been correct.

He was to lost in attempting to wake up that he didn't see France holding a finger to his lips, crouching down to hide in the shadows of the night. There were heavy footsteps from above, the Germans had got through No Man's Land. The silence hung. There was no resistance. Everyone who could fight was dead except France and Britain. Their whole flank had been taken out. France had told Britain it would happen but he had never listened, he was too tired to listen. He was always tired. He was always miserable. His leaders had promised this damn war would finish by Christmas but that had passed along with 2 more.

The footsteps faded away and France ran over to Britain, pulling him out of where he slept. "You need to get out of here." Britain resisted slightly, already France was lifting him so he could pull himself onto the other side of the trench. "What do you mean Frog? You're coming with me." Britain kissed him, not wanting to let go. France couldn't help but smile, it was the first time he had smiled since the war had started. Arthur's hands tugged at France's, "We can go, right now. Listen to me." France shook his head, taking Britain and lifting him as high as he possibly could so that he could reach the top of the trench.

There was suddenly movement from inside the trench, quick footsteps coming their way. "Arthur run!" Helplessly he scrambled up, just at the last second turning around and reaching out to France. "Come on! You too!" He watched him with a matter of urgency before the pair of men got to them, beginning to shoot at Arthur as he crawled away all the gunshots blended into one another. As the shooting eased away there was a painful voice from below. "Arthur! Run!" Britain ducked his head out to find a shot France busy making sure the men were dead. "They're only looking for one person." Britain's eyes caught on the bullet wound in Francis, he was bleeding but he was acting like there was nothing wrong.

His eyes swelled with tears, beginning to break through. "If you love me then you will take my hand and get your arse up here right now! Or was that just a lie you have been telling me for all these years?" Francis stared at him, broken. He had to stay yet if Britain so badly doubted that he loved him... The next thing he heard was a gunshot, it hit France's heart and he fell to the ground. Even in the dark shadows of the trench in the night he could make out the puddle of blood. Arthur battled with his emotions, wanting to jump in and help Francis. Yet the group of men hadn't seen Arthur, they didn't know he was there. He wasn't the British Empire he had once been, he wasn't powerful, once slightly.

Cowardly, he began to run, tripping up on the craters in the land. He ran to the new trench, only just remembering to stop at the barbedwire. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he didn't want this. He just wanted to cuddle up to Francis, to tell him he loved him. Someone held up a gun to his head, startled he put his hands up. "Are you a Jerry?" Britain shook his head, "N-No, I'm a Tommy. The front line has been taken, we need to get it back, there's still one of our men back there." The man took his hand, helping him down into the trench, laughing slightly. "If the Jerries have taken it, then your friend is a goner." Arthur's eyes glared at him furiously. He launched out, slamming the boy into the wall of the trench by his collar. "Don't you fucking know who you are talking to? My name is Arthur Kikland, I am the bloody United Kingdom. I have control over New Zealand, Canada, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, West Indies, Central America, Gibraltar, Falkland Islands, South Africa, Kenya, India, Zambia, Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland, Zimbabwe, Malawi, Tanzania, Burundi, Uganda, North-Eastern Somalia, Sudan, Egypt, The Gambia, Australia, Ghana, Nigeria, Myanmar, India, Nepal, Bhutan, Pakistan, Hong Kong, a part of Papua New Guinea, Oceania, Ireland, Northern Ireland, and Cyprus if you want to fucking tell me that I can't help my friend then you better have a better army than me to tell me so." He glared at him for a moment, the boy near to pleading. "Tell me where your Captain is, we are going to be getting that trench back even if hell blows over."

* * *

**Now that's a long list xD I apologize if any of the countries on it are wrong, I pulled it off a web page when I was researching.**

**Britain's so cute wanting Francey 3 Nien! Why can't they be happy?! xD I must sound so stupid saying this, but believe me I really want a happy a ending too. Although I have had far too many happy ending FanFics in the past...**


	17. Not His

There was a tiny heart beat... That was all the paramedics told him after a while of trying to get Francis' heart to work again. He slummed by his bed, watching him, hoping for something. There were staff constantly nearby to make sure if Francis' heart went again that they could begin the process once more. He stared at his French man, wanting to so badly see him wake up, but not once did the stubborn fool attempt to. There were so many wires in Francis, so many trying to keep him alive yet he knew if he did wake up he would simply pull them all out without a moments thought. Maybe it was better like this, until he got better.

A doctor came in, holding something that held some results in. "Do you know at all why he is like this?" His eyes pleaded to the man, a frown of regret grew on her face. "I'm sorry but I'm only allowed to talk to relatives and next of kin about this..." At that exact moment Monaco and Seborga rushed in, Britain face flushed; he had forgotten to call them... Who the hell had...? Monaco glared at Britain, her hand clenched. "Doctor, I am Francis' sister and I do not want this man in this room." She didn't take her eyes off him as she said it, there was no regret. Just sheer hate for the person who did this to him.

He frowned, glancing one more time at Francis before kissing him softly on the forehead. His heart wanted to refuse to go, his mind battled against it, telling him it was for the best. "Is alright if I sit outside?" He asked her without a moments thought, to his surprise there was a sigh and then a slight nod. He grabbed his briefcase which still had from the World Meeting and walked past them, his legs grew heavier with each step away from Francis. Once outside he caught the doctor talking about how this had happened to him, he only caught words of it, 'overdose' 'relaxants' 'shut down.' There was a cry from inside and muttering curses to Britain who was still taking it all in.

Relaxants? The only... He must have taken the strong ones he used for his back... His face blushed at the thought of France finding them, he had never admitted that his back pains had grown worse yet somehow Francis had always been there, to lend a gentle massage now and then. But why... Why would he do this to himself? Oh shit... _Would you cry if I died tomorrow? _His hands ran through his hair uneasily, he hadn't meant to say no. It had just fallen out and he had to cover it up. Guilt engulfed him, he leaned on the wall. Didn't he realize he had died yesterday because of that bastard America? Didn't he realize that this was the tomorrow...?

The tears fell down his cheek, tumbling down messily. A hand stroked his cheek and fell into it, it reminded him of Francis' hands of how he always held him as he cried. No matter how stupid the situation he was crying about Francis would always make it better, he would understand. Something brushed against his lips as he kept crying, his eyes clenched tight, refusing to open. Suddenly he realized he was being kissed, the lips moved delicately. Francis? Francis was still unconscious, right? A tongue slipped into his mouth, but it was crazy, messily distorting their saliva between each other's mouths. That was when his eyes snapped open. His heart broke as it was not his sweet Francis but America...

He didn't know what to do, his tongue had somehow slipped into his mouth. He could taste the stench of hamburgers and McDonald's. It covered his taste buds in a layer of slim. It was ranched, he wanted to be sick. The tears fell much faster, his hands wouldn't push the fat American away. He wanted to slap him over the face, he wanted to tell him to get lost but all his fight had gone. The fight that Francis had always given him. Of course he cared for his Monarch and country but the only reason he had ever cared boiled down to that first day he had met Francis, when he had made him feel proud instead of just a clumsy country that's only friends were the rabbits and mystical creatures.

That fight had gone, so he kept kissing America, not wanting to hurt his feelings anymore. Until, at last, a hand snapped at his face and he saw Seychelles trying to hold back the plentiful tears. She glared at him with a menace he had never seen before in her eyes, it was unnatural, frightening. America broke between them, trying to get Seychelles to calm down, "Hey Sey, you didn't need to slap Arthur like that. He was kissing me! That means he likes me too." Britain sighed mentally, wondering how someone could be so stupid. The look on Seychelles face said it all, it was exactly like the one Francis had given him only a day ago. All of a sudden, Seychelles leant into America and kissed him. He could her trying to blink away the tears as she kissed him.

His head spun, this was too much... He only liked Francis, right? That kiss had meant nothing yet still it broke his heart to think of it like that. It wasn't nothing, it was something that could easily wound Francis' fragile heart and once and for all stop him from loving him. Seychelles lingered in the kiss for a couple of more moments before muttering, "There I kissed you so that must mean I like you too..." Her face went a bright tomato red as she ran down the corridor, wanting to get away. At that moment Britain understood the pain that he had given Francis as he watched the little girl they has raised together be heart broken.

* * *

**Sorry I haven't been posting chapters recently, I haven't been able to focus on it that much so I have been watching different animes. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I think its so cute how Seychelles likes America but he's so blind.**


	18. Scars

It had only taken a couple of hours to get back the trench, even less to get Francis in his arms only more yet it had felt like centuries since he hugged him. He wandered through the tiny hospital, searching each of the faces in the bed for his Francis. At last he spotted him. The tears already had begun to run down his face and he ran over and hugged his French man. He was unconscious still, and from what the doctors said it was going to be a few more days yet until he woke up. But all that didn't matter, he had his Francis back and no filthy Germans were going to take him away. Not now, not ever.

His face was messy, the mud hiding his beauty, concealing it from view. He blushed, thinking about the last time they had been able to wash; they had found a stream and had ended up playing more than actually washing. The memory was a cheerful one, one which had got him through a lot. His fingertips brushed through Francis' hair, it was unusually messy, clamped with mud and lice. "Francey you better wake up, I think the nurses with be going around later and shaving off everyone's hair." He kissed him on the cheek teasingly, his nose nuzzling into his face. He gasped as he felt Francis' cheek move and his lips meet onto his.

They were still delicate, they were still the same soft lips that he had always kissed. He bit at Francis' lip playfully. Francis took his chin, caressing it softly before wiping away the tears in Arthur's eyes. He chuckled at the emerald eyes staring back at him, "I love you Arthur, and all that matters is if you love me back. I don't care how many times I get hurt, just as long as you're okay." Arthur nodded, beaming back at him but he couldn't... He couldn't say it back, he didn't know if he did. He choked on his tears, falling just to crying. It was a wonder why Francis was so understanding, who he wrapped his arms around Arthur and cuddled him.

Guiltily, Arthur embraced him, he couldn't find the right words so he said the first thing that came into mind. "You better not be leaving me in a rush again Frog... I wouldn't be too happy if I found you flirting with Germany..." Francis chuckled heartily, finding Arthur adorable. His head tilted as he listened, an innocent face appearing on him. "Maybe sometimes I need time away from my petit lapin, although I think I would much rather go to Antonio's house. Hmmm~ That perfect arse is wonderful to press your hands on." Arthur stared at him in shock before Francis giggled playfully, kissing him on the forehead. "Aww my little Angleterre, you have always been so easily to annoy."

At that Arthur pouted, folding his arms, "You know its not nice to make fun of me Frog and I'm not little anymore." He stood up to attempt to prove his point however Francis dragged him into bed with him. His head rested on Francis' shoulder, causing him to wince slightly but he didn't complain. Was that one of the places they hurt him? His hand delved under Francis' hospital pyjamas, he blushed a rosy red as he thought about how someone must have stripped him and then put it on. His tongue licked his lips enviously. His hand brushed against one of the wounds and Francis tried to pull away except Arthur blocked it by kissing him.

He tried to gently touch it but every time Francis would moan in agony. In the end he rolled up his shirt to see the wound, he grinned up at Francis. "Hey Francis, do you want me to heal it for you?" Francis grasped his hand urgently, "You're not going to use magic, are you?" There was a fear in his eyes, a fear that Arthur only occasionally saw and it always made him feel disgusting because he knew that the fear was a result of him. This time though he pushed through it, "Nope but I think you will enjoy it." Resting his head slightly, he began to lick the wound, running his finger down a scar on Francis' body. It was a familiar scar but he couldn't place it, it looked like it had been there for a long time.

Francis' hand grasped Arthur's, squeezing it tight as he scrunched up his eyes in agony. The tongue began to move up before jumping onto his neck. His hand pressed onto his chest as he leant more into Francis. A small moan came from Francis and Arthur triumphantly began to suck on his dirty neck, he could taste the now long gone rose smell which seemed to be permanently inked into his skin even though he knew that Francis had not worn it in a long time. "A-Arthur we're in a hospital... The doctors might come around at any moment... And what about the other patients?" He could hear the enjoyment in Francis' voice but also the worry. Arthur menacingly grinned to him. "Well if they see we are just two countries expressing our sexual frustrations with one another." Francis tried to stop himself from bursting out laughing, he had purposely said that to make him excited, to have something to cling onto, and it had worked.

Arthur smiled, unable to wipe away the smile, it was exactly something Francis would say yet he had sounded so badly like him before. His hand snaked along Francis' body, taking in how much he had changed physically since the start of the war. He didn't have as much muscle, he was far more dirtier, yet none of it mattered. He just wanted Francis, to be there with him. To give him something to cling onto and keep fighting for. His hand came to his trousers and he slipped it underneath. This was the country of Love he was talking about though so he needed to give him something to excite him. His mission was clear and he didn't care who saw it.

* * *

**Really loving writing this even though it takes so damn long xD Sorry the chapters are so short, I cannot seem to write very long ones xD**

**Just a quick thing on the side:- I just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, really loving to hear what you think about it. Please keep them coming!**


	19. Love Curse

She had ran away completely embarrassed, she had run away from the guy she liked so much. Once outside she sunk to her feet, letting herself cry. Francis had warned her about falling in love so many times yet she had still fallen into the same trap. She was meant to be in there, sitting with him. She was meant to be looking over Francis but there she was kissing America. Her face burned with embarrassment, she was so stupid! It was just that when she saw him kissing Britain like that she had been jealous, she had always been jealous of Britain. He always had control over the people she loved, the ones she fell in love with. First Francis, now Alfred... Was she just that stupid?

Someone sat next to her on the kerb, she jumped as she found Monaco next to her. "Boy trouble is always the worst." A playfully smile crept onto her face, "Unfortunately it seems to be genetic in the Bonnefoy family..." Seychelles smiled at her, there was a silence between them before she broke it. "Are you talking about Seborga for yourself? Or perhaps Britain for Francis. Of course, there is always Mathieu and Prussia." She blushed at the realization at their family was really badly unlucky with love, even though it was founded on it. Monaco watched her joining her in the blushing, "You know what we do though? We keep going in the hope that one day they will see through it. It might not be today, or tomorrow but if you are patient enough then every thing works out."

Seychelles sighed in frustration, "What if I don't want to wait as long as Francis? I don't want to have to wait thousands of years and still be nowhere..." Monaco shrugs at her, giggling slightly. "Not everyone is as patient as Francis...But I guess realistically no one can be, unless they are loved all the time and are actually just waiting for the three words. However if you're not willing to wait, even just a few more minutes maybe you should ask yourself if it would really work between you two." She raised her eyebrows as she glanced over her shoulder, getting up and leaving to go back inside to the warmth.

She glanced around to see what Monaco had seen and saw Alfred standing there. There was no Arthur by his side, no love sick puppy expression on his face, just the normal smiling America she knew and loved. He sat next to her and blushed to her. "I'm sorry... That you had to see that..." He was unusually self-confident as he spoke, each time he looked at her his words would seem longer. "I-I need to explain first... Please." His eyes watched her pleadingly, when no reply came he simply continued on. "Yesterday night was great, I had an awesome time. Not just because I was being a Hero but because I was being your Hero... I-I don't know... I just enjoy being around you, I feel happier."

Seychelles gets up to go, having heard enough. "Wait!" America grabbed onto her hand, he begged for her to stay yet she was livid. He was basically trying to tell her something she already knew, that he didn't love her. She just wanted to go home and cuddle up to Francis and cry but she couldn't. Francis was in hospital and she was still needed for another World Meeting. "Sey... I kissed Britain because I wanted to see how I felt... But it was gross... Like kissed your own father... B-But when you kissed me... I don't know... I felt some sort of spark... It was nice... I thought I liked Britain but you're the one I really love. Victoria, I love you." Those three words, it was like an atomic bomb exploding, instead of destruction though, there was sheer bliss. She turned to look at him, it was one of the first times he had actually looked serious and it suited him very well.

"How do I know you're not just feeling sorry for me?" She glared at him lightly, she didn't know why she was asking it yet it seemed important. "Just trust me, please." He leant in, kissing her in a wave of passion. His hand slipped down onto her waist and the world seemed to stop around them. Nothing mattered except each other. His tongue masterfully slipped into her mouth and he tasted her properly, their saliva intermingling. In her head, she could her fireworks going off, she could feel herself being swept away by his kisses. They had to stop for a moment to get their breath back and she grinning to him, sharing a twinkle in their eyes. "I love you too Alfred."

A slight thought slipped by as to what Francis would think about this, she was hugely grateful he hadn't seen this or else he would have been the overprotective father and tried to punch America. Then, of course, ask later if he had tried to take her virginity which would made everything very embarrassing for her. She giggled at the thrill as she was kissed again, America not quite catching on to what she was thinking but her sweet face was enough for him. Finally Seychelles took his hand and smiled precariously, "I think we should go visit Francis..."

* * *

**At last! America came to his senses! Although I don't think Francis will be too pleased about that...**

**WWII soon to come, still trying to decide which part to do. So many choices!**


	20. Once Upon A Time

He slept on the stairs outside Francis' room whenever he got tired. The only reason he stayed was the thought of not being near when he woke up. Monaco sat at his side, in the place that should have been his. Guiltily, he was jealous that his sister was allowed in there yet not him, no one had tried to argue his case. He wasn't told about Francis' progress and he was covered in worry. Seborga walked past with a tea and a hot chocolate he smiled nervously to Britain. "H-Hey... I don't think Francis would want you missing your tea so I got you a cup." He glanced around nervously to make sure Monaco wasn't behind him before blushing.

His curl twitched in discomfort at being nervous. "Also... I was going to get Antonio to take Mona back to her hotel room so if you like you could go and see Francis. I-I mean I know we're like strangers but Francis talks a lot about you... Whatever upset him enough to do this, I just know you'll be able to talk him around to waking up." A small smile grew onto Seborga's face, Arthur examined him, taken aback by the kind gesture; he didn't know him that well... He seemed a lot like Italy though, except he seemed to have his head screwed on more like Romano.

He waited a moment to think about it, did he really want to talk to Francis? It would be nice... Nodding his head, he politely thanked Seborga. Butterflies already had began to flutter in his stomach. Francis talked about him that much? He didn't notice the affectionate smile which appeared on his face at the thought, just that Monaco was getting up whilst drinking her drink. Seborga helped her get on her coat, kissing her on the cheek lovingly except Monaco seemed to merely brush it off as him being Italian.

Arthur leaned on the wall more as he thought, there was something different about this Italian to the others, for example why did he seem to know France so well? Sure Italy saw France as a 'Big Brother' but it seemed different between them, more family like... His fingers twitched in annoyance as he let his mind wander ever more. Was the micronation a child of France's? His stomach panged at the thought, surely Francis would have told him if he had a child. Although he hadn't told him about Seychelles until at least 25 years after caring for her... Still though... Francis with a child... That did not settle well with him, especially as they had raised Matthew, Alfred and Seychelles together, it was something they did together.

He watched Monaco come out of the room, her eyes dark with circles. She rubbed at them sorely, leaning her head onto Seborga's shoulder. He mouthed to Arthur that it was 'alright for him to go in now' as they walked past. He was clinging onto Monaco tightly, seemingly to have been reduced to nothing at the thought of losing her brother for any amount of time. He stared at them as they walked down the corridor, being met by a rather haggered Antonio who saw Arthur and wanted to leave as soon as possible. He sneered at Spain for a moment, unable to resist toying with him slightly, he was easy prey when France wasn't around to protect him. France...

Once more made sure they had left the corridor before taking one step nearer to Francis' door. Then he took another step, before he knew it he was beginning to speed walk it into Francis' room, the desire to see him finally bursting through. His heart broke as he saw the broken Francis in front of him. Pulling up a seat, he sat next to him, "Hi Frog, I miss you... Please wake up... Stop being a stubborn fool..." The tears began to liquidate once more, falling from his cheeks, "F-Francis, I-I'm sorry... I-I didn't mean to say that..." Not only is his voice shaking but his whole body as he leans his head onto Francis' chest. "There's something I need to tell you..." His throat swelled up, making him cough abruptly.

His fingertips found Francis' hair, the thing he always searched for in comfort. "Once upon a time, there was a little boy who was picked on by his older brothers. One day another boy found him in the forest and was kind to him. Later on that day this new little boy told the younger one that he loved him but the younger boy was too scared to let in the feelings as the older boy was his only friend. However, later on the younger boy lost the older boy as a friend because he wanted him to be proud of him and to make up for never being able to say those three words. Yet still the two boys loved each other dearly, even through everything. No matter what obstacle came their way they kept loving one another." He sighed, burying his head deep into Francis' chest. "However, one day when the older boy was in hospital the younger boy was kissed by someone else and he didn't stop the other one. The younger boy loved the older boy very much but he couldn't keep fighting the world without the other by his side..."

His throat cracked as he came near to the end of the story, "Unfortunately that older boy is still in hospital so there is no ending although the younger boy wants the ending to be with them living happily ever after..." He stared up at Francis, wondering whether he could actually hear everything he had said. He blushed, feeling completely stupid. Nothing happened, he didn't stir. Francis didn't seem to be fighting back, or maybe he had lost the heart for it. "Francis... I want us to be together. No America. No just saying we're together so that it stops me from having to say no to other people's advances. No need to be together because we are looking after child nations. Just you and me, forever. Or at least until Earth dies..." He chuckles, trying to sound as matter-of-fact in the last sentence but it just comes out more mournful than anything.

* * *

**I'm not sure if I made it fluffy enough... NEEDS MORE FLUFF!**

**Next chapter we will be finally getting to WWII! Muhawawawa! **


	21. Half Insane

His eyes pricked in pain as Germany's hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He had tried to escape again and this time Germany wasn't going to be as kind. Italy wasn't there to stop him, it was just the two of them. A twisted grin fed from his fright. "A-Allemagne! P-Please! I-I promise I won't escape again! That's the last time!" He choked, the grip getting ever tighter. His eyes were dark, angry with a passion. He released France, letting him splutter up blood onto his floor. "Its easy enough to get you back, idiot... But when I know you have helped Britain to escape!" His fists clench in fury and kicked him hard in the stomach. "You are a worthless country... That is why Britain and America are not trying to get you back. They want to leave me with the trash."

Clutching his stomach, he moaned in pain. Something hit him over the forehead and there was a trickle of blood that had already begun to fall from it. His whole body ached, no longer able to keep up with the beatings now that Italy had surrendered to the Allies after an attack from Sicily. The thought made him smirk to Germany's disgust. He launched over and grabbed his hair, forcing him up. "Listen to me, you piece of filth. Today Britain and America are trying to get you back but I'm going to make sure every last one of their soldiers are dead. Then I'm going to take every single piece of trash out and leave it to starve, forever alone." He spat at Francis as he spoke yet he still was able to pull out a laugh.

It was a half insane laugh and half amusing laugh, Francis glared at him in satisfaction. "Mon cher, you seem to forget that there is also my petit Mathieu with them and think of the amount of Arthur's brothers that have already willing helped in the war. Not to mention my petit Seychelles helped to fight in Egypt... I think you are standing on your last legs Allemagne." Germany was enraged, there was a determination in his eyes to prove France wrong. The country he had invaded three times in the past 120 years was mocking him and he wanted revenge for all the trouble he had created. A sly sneer reflected onto Germany as he grabbed France's hands. "You might be right, however I still have you in my possession for the time being." A sparkle of sheer delight ran through his eyes.

The warning glare was all France needed, he tried to scramble away. Unfortunately, he was still unable to properly move from being kicked and his head hurt too badly each time he moved it, leaving Germany his for the takings. France's sweat dropped cold from his forehead. "A-Allemagne... Angleterre will be here soon... Y-You have already lost..." His voice was weak as he tried to input reasoning yet none of it worked. Germany pulled off his belt, using it to tie up France's hands. He tried to resist, resulting to screaming for help as loud as he could. "Angleterre! Arthur! Help! Arthur!" Germany put a finger to his lip once his throat and hands were red raw.

His eyes set into France, "He's not going to come for you. America and him are screwing as we speak." His voice was full of certainty, purposely toying with France's emotions. Just the thought of America touching his Britain was too much, a single tear fell from his eye, signalling to Germany that he would no longer resist. He lifted up France's chin, glaring straight into his eyes with a purpose. "You are no going to resist." The command drove into him as Germany forced himself into a kiss, filling himself with the stench of the French man.

Aggressively, he pulled out, pressing his crotch against where he had kicked France in the stomach. The was a groan from France in pain, his desperate attempts to hold something nearby. "Your nothing but a pervert, you know what we do with them in the army...?" Germany's voice was a low growl as he sunk his teeth into his shoulder, lapping up the blood that emerged from the wound. "We give them that and far more." He kicked out when Germany least suspected it, kneeing him straight in the balls.

Winded Germany clutched himself as France frantically ran to the door, trying to open it with his tied up hands. It wouldn't open... In desperation he began to pound on the door. "Arthur! Alfred! Mathieu!" His eyes stung as he held back the tears, just focussing on getting out. A hand leaned beside him on the door, slowly he looked up to see Germany up once more, "They're not going to come." France sank to his knees, he really was all alone... Even once he had been captured he hadn't admitted defeat but now on D-Day he had fallen to it. "France, you're mine and no one can take you away." Germany's blue eyes reflected into Francis', he crouched there on the floor next to him before kissing him tenderly on the forehead.

Germany caressed the bite wound he had given France earlier, bending in to lick it gently, clearing away all the dried blood. There was a flash of guilt in his eyes but it disappeared as fast as it came, replaced once more with a confident, brooding smirk. His hands wrapped around France, as if trying to cuddle him except they grabbed at his trousers and slipped them away. Manically he began to tear at his shirt, France didn't move this time. He was Germany's piece of land, something he could do anything with. He had lost. He let him pull in close. He let him strip him naked. He even let him do something that was only marked for Britain yet he didn't believe anymore. He had lost hope in Arthur coming to save him. In only an hour he had lost himself.

* * *

**That was grim, sorry I haven't posted in a while. Have had this chapter ready for a while except forgot to put it up. I hope you enjoy it, thanks for all the reviews so far.**


	22. The Liar and The Love

"I hate it when you lie..." Francis' voice was weak as he turned his head to Arthur. "Y-You're awake!" Arthur got up from his chair, knowing he should go get the doctors except he didn't expect Francis' hand to clamp him down. He glanced up to him to find Francis' eyes buried in sadness and frustration. "You meant every word of it now but tomorrow you won't. Just like you would only cry today at me dying because I had asked you about it before. If I died any other day you would be celebrating. I might be the country of amor but I am not country of God damn patience..." His eyes twisted away, he needed to stay strong. His mind was all a blur, he couldn't think straight yet he knew he was tired of Arthur's games.

Arthur squeezed his hand tight, leaning into him. He could feel his body about to shatter at any moment, "Y-You think that's what I've been doing for so long?... That I've been playing some sort of game... Francis..." He tried to bring his hand over to Francis' face yet, for the first time, he pushed it away. He pushed away the affection. He glared at him warningly, this wasn't the Francis Arthur knew. "Every single time I have waited for you and you only come for a short amount of time... You use me against my own people..." His heart squeezed as he thought of Joan, he would always love her. He was stupid to have thought that Arthur would understand if he gave her up that he would finally see sense and admit his feelings. "You can't even say those three words... Well guess what.. I hate you."

His eyes brimmed complete honesty, tongue felt like poison, biting into Arthur and flowing his venom through his veins. It was the first time he had said that, the first time he had said he hated him. In all those thousands of years together he had never said them words, never implied them. They were his poison, toxic to his love for Arthur. He sunk his teeth in this time, wanting to make sure that Arthur never came back, no longer wanting him there. His eyes flashed warningly over Arthur, but he fought against him. "You don't mean that...Francis... You couldn't mean that..." His fingers try to grasp onto Francis, yet all he got was a sharp shove away from him. The bitter taste in France's mouth foamed around his lips.

Arthur sighed, his eyes lowering as the message began to sink in. "Francis... I-You..." His head sunk ever more, in submission. The remnants of smile lay on his face as his eyes cast over Francis, "Well, you look after yourself then... Its good to know you are okay." His hands buried into his pockets, playing uncomfortably with the loose change in his pocket. "I-I'll see you at the next World Meeting then..." His mind kept telling him to leave it like that however his body stubbornly refused to move. He hung there for a while, Francis never meeting his eyes. Only making the feeling inside him worse.

"F-Francis... Just tell me how to make it better, tell me how to get you to see how much I care about you." He was lost, without Francis he was always lost. He didn't care how bad the poison was, he just wanted Francis. He had told that Frog so many times that he had hated him, yet for Francis to return the hate... It wasn't him. It wasn't the Francis he knew so well. At last Francis' eyes shifted up to his and he could see the thousands of years of pain in his eyes. "That's the problem, if I have to tell you. If it is only to show how much you care about me, because that's all you ever do, you care about me then leave me. That in itself isn't even care..."

Suddenly Francis' frown disappeared and was replaced with a grin, except when Arthur glanced up to the door he spotted Seborga standing there. He wasn't smiling for him, it was for Seborga. A bout of jealous ran through him and he his fist clenched in his pocket. Who did that punk think he was? Why the hell couldn't he make Francis smile. "F-Francis, you're awake." Seborga ran over to him tearfully, cuddling him tight. "Mona was so worried, I should go and call her! But she was so tired before..." Almost to throw it make in Arthur's face, Seborga nuzzled Francis' face whilst Francis cleared away his tears. His eyes seemed to twinkle slightly as he held Seborga close.

That was all Arthur needed to see, within seconds he had marched out of the room in disgust. He had punched the wall hard outside causing his fist to bleed feebly. Francis was over him, he just needed to get over Francis. He cradled his fist for a couple of seconds before running outside of the hospital. The rain hit him hard from all directions. It punched at him and teased him. It gathered in puddles, soaking his feet. People always say that it rains in Britain a lot, but the simple fact is... The rain in Britain, his tears of pain. For all those thousands of years, he had cried himself to sleep. He had dreamt about Francis. He had cursed himself for not saying saying what was in his heart. It was too late now.

* * *

**At last! Arthur is beginning to come around to the thought of loving Francis but it seems he might be too late.**

**And why he is so jealous of Seborga?**


	23. Tsundere

He dashed through the corridors, his face stained with the blood of those that had fallen that day. All he could focus on was the simple promise he had given him. He promised he would come back. He promised himself that he would make those that had made Francis suffer, suffer too. "Francis! Francis! Where are you?!" He searched desperately each room. This was the right place, wasn't it? There was a small tweet. The smallest chirp. Arthur froze as he caught a glimpse of Pierre, the bird who had helped him to keep in touch with Francis. The creature that had helped him to keep his sanity during even the worst parts of the war. "Pierre, where's Francis? Did Germany take him with him?" He stepped quicker over to Pierre, finding his wing pointing at a strange angle.

He broke as he saw the wing, Germany knew... He knew about the letters. How many did he know about? Had Francis got his most recent one? How long had Germany known? Tenderly, he lent the bird his finger as a perch. Even though he was so badly hurt Pierre seemed to want to help his master. There was another tweet from him and a movement of his back tail feathers. "What does that mean?" His eyes cast over to the last door, the only door he hadn't tried. Pierre seemed to be directing him to it. His spare hand shakily grasped the door knob, sliding it only open a tiny bit before it hit something heavy.

At first he thought that it was a dead body but as he slid into the room he found that the person was crying, whispering a name. He heard his name on the air and hugged the freezing body tight. "I-I'm sorry I didn't get here soon enough..." Tears ran down his face in anger, "I-I should have been here, every time I've needed you, you've been there... So why couldn't I have been there for you?" The rigid body didn't reply, it just sat there, curled up in a tight, coiled ball. Desperately Arthur tired to pick up the lifeless body. "I-I'll get you to a hospital. They'll be able to help." Immediately Francis sprung out and away from Arthur. Confused, Arthur watched him.

Francis stood up, his legs shook. He only just about managed to stand whilst leaning on the wall. "I'm not going to any hospital. You can't make me." Pierre tweeted in protest against Francis, Arthur had forgotten he was still perked on his finger. "Why won't you go? Surely it's for the best." Francis raised his eyebrow, stumbling uncharacteristically. "And what would I tell them? That I'm just as filthy as people say I am... That Germany touched me in places that are just reserved for you... Then how would I explain how I am naked?" Arthur fell back, startled, he was so used to Francis wandering around naked that he hadn't noticed it.

Pulling himself up, he took Francis' hand so that Pierre could go back to his owner. Now freed, he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Francis. "You'll always be my beautiful Frenchman no matter what others think about you." His hand came up to Francis' face and held it however Francis flinched away in fright. "If you really thought that then why do you always leave me?" Britain's eyes filled with tears, "I won't leave you this time, I promise." France fell into him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He stroked his hair as he let Francis cry, knowing all too well that he had promised Francis the impossible. He couldn't, he was too scared yet it was the only thing he could think of to calm down Francis.

"We're going to go to the hospital now, alright?" There was a timid nod from Francis and it broke his heart. There was no way he could stay, he had to get revenge for Francis, but maybe if he took him there then the doctors would be more understanding. They might be more caring towards him. There was a call from more people down the corridor, more people from his region. France cowered into Britain more, fearful of these new people. "I found him! He'll be needing medical!" There was an almost animal look in France's eyes, unsure whether to run or freeze. Instinctively, Francis hated these soldiers, he didn't trust them.

Dog whistles emerged from the door as some of the soldiers found them. "So is this the girl you've been writing to Artie? She's a looker although I think you failed to notice the balls on him." They laughed at him, teasing him until they began to pick on Francis. "Why do you look like a girl? What's the matter, didn't get the Nazi treat you wanted?" They sneered at him as he buried his head deeper into Arthur's chest, begging him to make them stop. However, Britain didn't, he just laughed with them. He pulled at Francis' hair, yanking his jacket off Francis, "I know right, he looks like such a pathetic girl." The teasing continued all the way to the hospital, ridiculing Francis as he sat in the corner of the truck. It was only worse at the hospital, all the doctors would laugh behind his back, his masculinity wasted away. Yet worst of all, he would wait for Britain in the hope that he would come to see him.

* * *

**Arthur once again being tsundere, will he ever be able to break this habit?**

**Also, poor Francey 3 Had to try hard to not get too upset when writing it.**


End file.
